Go figure.
I can’t throw a frisbee to save my soul. When I aim it at Jake, it veers right by thirty to forty degrees. When I try to compensate by aiming thirty degrees left, the damn thing goes thirty degrees left. Just when I think it’s hopeless, I get one right to him. Then it’s back to the same ol’ crap.
But somehow, I know how to play badminton.
Badminton’s next on Jake’s PE torture wheel, so I bought some rackets and shuttlecocks a while back, and after our frisbee fiasco we futzed with badminton. And I know how to serve and hit it and all of that. When did I ever play badminton? Sis, didn’t we have rackets and a net when we were kids? Or perhaps it’s because I played some tennis in high school. Not much. Some. Enough, perhaps.
You have to understand, I can’t throw, catch, swing, dunk, hit — none of that. So to find out that I can not only serve a shuttlecock but do it accurately and consistently is nothing short of mind-boggling. Jake’s having a hard time serving, though, but on the other hand, he’s got me beat in frisbee. If we can figure out a game where he throws me the frisbee and I slam back the shuttlecock, we’ll have a great time.
D.
Yes indeed, we had a net, rackets, shuttlecocks, and I recall playing. Remember the ping pong table?
Yup, I remember the ping pong table. I also remember totally sucking at that game. Which means that Jake will undoubtedly have to learn to play ping pong for PE.